I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

We find meaning in responsibility, not in pursuit of empty pleasures
How could a stranger at sunset possibly know what I had to say?
Is this what happens when you teach children there are no absolutes?
‘One more thing’ can never bring the peace we can have right now
Family seemed perfectly typical, but I felt envious of their lives
Pursuit of perfection leaves me feeling shame when I’m flawed
Photo assignment in dimly lit gym kickstarted my love for basketball